


Lizzie

by Lakeylou



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-03 21:38:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6627457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lakeylou/pseuds/Lakeylou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set ten months after the most recent episode. (short drabble) Red & Lizzie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lizzie

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own The Blacklist or the characters. :) (Also, i'm not sure where Tom is in this...but he's no longer around in this story, so i haven't mentioned him.)

Elizabeth calls Cooper first.

She dials his number three times, hangs up on the second ring each time.

The fourth time she calls him, Mr. Kaplan is sitting across from her.

They are in a safe house; it's always dark in the living room, even when the curtains are open and the sun streams in.

“Elizabeth, you have to talk to him. It will only get easier.”

_Easier._

Liz raises her eyebrow because Mr. Kaplan knows full well this won’t get any easier.

Red thinks she is dead.

It can’t get any harder than telling a man, who has experienced so much darkness and _death_ and hate, that she lied to him. That she lied to him. That she put him through all of that pain _again_. 

All he wanted was to help her.

Lizzie has forced Mr. Kaplan, on every visit, to tell her how Red has been holding up. How is he today? What has he been doing? Is he- Is he okay? Is he alright? Today? What about yesterday? Mr. Kaplan remains very vague, despite Lizzie's insistence. 

When Lizzie hangs up on Cooper for the fourth time, she starts to cry.

“I don’t even know how to begin. What do I say?” She whispers, wipes her hands down her pale face. “I feel—it’s awful. I’m _awful_ for doing this to them.”

They finally decide it’s best for Mr. Kaplan to call and explain first.

***

Lizzie talks to Cooper for two hours; the first hour her face is wet and she suspects his is too.

“Elizabeth,” he soothes her. Shouldn't she be soothing him, she thinks. “I understand why you did this. I understand.”

“I don’t know-” Lizzie breathes, feels her heart squeeze, her eyes squeeze shut. “I, you- there was a funeral, wasn’t there. Aram. He… he gave a speech.”

“And a good one too,” Cooper tells her. “They will be shocked, of course. But Elizabeth, they will be happy. You are _alive_.”

“Thank you,” Lizzie sniffs, wants nothing more than to have him here in front of her right now. “God. Thank you. It’s so good to talk to you.”

“And you.” Cooper says then hesitates, breathes deeply into the phone; there’s a brief pause in conversation. Lizzie takes the time to rub a tissue under her eyes.

“Does… Does Reddington know?” Cooper asks, his tone soft.

She picks at the tissue with her nails, scrunches it in her left hand.

“No.”

***

She meets Agnes, for the sixth time since her birth, two days later. Mr. Kaplan brings her on a Monday, tells her Red was with her all of Sunday.

“How is he with her?” Lizzie asks, holding her little girl in her arms. Agnes has on a pale pink beanie; and there’s a little red heart in the center. Liz can’t stop smiling.

“Enchanted,” Mr. Kaplan responds.

“Really?” Lizzie smooths her finger over the red heart. “I’m glad he’s in her life, you know.”

“Spoils her rotten.”

“I’m not surprised.”

***

In a row, all on the same day, Ressler, Aram and Samar call the number Cooper had given them.

Lizzie wants to know if a person’s tears ever run out.

Her eyes are never dry.

She apologizes too much, Ressler tells her.

“Keen. It’s alright. I’m not going to lie, it was hard… tough, dealing with it... I, I saw you and Redding-I saw you laying there. But we, we get why you had to do this. You’ve had a hell of a lot of bad luck, Liz. And when you have a child, you got to do everything for them. That's all there is to it.”

“I’ve missed you guys.”

“You need to come home. It’s safe now. We’ve been working with Reddington. He’s- he’s been working really hard to keep Agnes safe. And so did you, Liz. You kept her safe.”

 ***

 Dembe calls Liz one week later. She tells him it doesn’t feel right speaking to Red over the phone. She needs to see him, speak to him face-to-face, and explain everything as carefully as she can.

She knows he's fragile.

“I will tell him tonight,” Dembe agrees.

“Dembe, if it’s too hard for you-”

“This way is best. He’ll be… he is going to be--” Dembe chuckles, and Lizzie has missed the sound _so_ much. She has just missed laughing altogether. “He misses you, Elizabeth. Every day, every moment, he thinks of you.”

“I never should have done this to him, to all of you. If i could go back-”

“Raymond will understand,” Dembe assures her. “He knows how far people will go to protect their loved ones.”

"I know he does."

 ***

 “I need to shave.”

“Raymond,” Dembe begins gently. “We are running late. We should be there now; she will be waiting.”

Red rubs the back of his hand under his chin, thinks for a moment.

“I don’t think I can do this,” he says, furrowing his brow. “I’m not-”

“You can.”

“No Dembe,” Red turns, reaches for his jacket. “I’ll be back shortly.”

“Raymond. Raymond, where are you going?”

 ***

 Elizabeth gets hugged by everyone, finds that she sinks a little into each hug and doesn’t want to let go. Aram compliments her blonde hair, tells her he’s sure Agnes's hair has been getting lighter with the sun. He visits Agnes, he tells her, they all do.

He doesn't know how much that means to her.

Lizzie sat for two hours at the park by her hotel. Fidgeted for two hours. She sat on the exact wooden bench her and Red have sat on side-by-side numerous times before.

He didn’t show.

Even when Dembe called to explain, she sat for another hour.

He still didn’t show.

Aram gushes, attempts to tell her everything she has missed in the last ten months. The caregivers of Agnes, he tells her, are lovely, lovely people.

“I, we, we haven’t seen Mr. Reddington in weeks,” Aram stumbles on his words, then immediately regrets them when he catches her eyes widen. “He’s been busy… I suppose, yes.”

“He know yet?” Ressler asks.

“Dembe told him yesterday,” Lizzie smiles weakly. “I was meant to see him this morning, but he-” her phone vibrates in her back pocket, distracts her from finishing her sentence. She pulls it out, reads Dembe’s message.

She exhales a deep breath.

“Dembe said he’s coming here,” she says it like she doesn't quite believe it.

Ressler nods, looks vaguely worried, and Liz wants to ask him what Red was like when he last saw him. Samar changes the subject though, begins to talk about Agnes again, about the little blue-eyed girl Lizzie will be seeing, and getting back at three. Red couldn't have chosen better people to look after her. An elderly couple, loving and warm and ... exactly what Agnes needs.

Lizzie's going to hold her little girl's hand and never let go.

“Here he is,” Cooper announces as the elevator door opens.

Liz turns around, braces herself, chants in her head that it's all going to be okay. It's okay. Everything is going to be okay. But only Dembe is there, and he walks towards her smiling.

“Dembe. Hi.”

“Elizabeth,” Dembe pulls her in for a hug. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too.” Lizzie smiles, glances over his shoulder. “Where is he?”

She feels everyone’s eyes on her, on Dembe’s shoulders as they lift then drop.

Red doesn’t want to see her.

Dembe hesitates, looks at Cooper before looking back at her. “He is… struggling to believe it I think… He’s in the elevator.”

“In the elevator?”

Dembe nods. “It was a big shock for him, Elizabeth. I think he’s afraid it’s not true. That you’re not actually here. Raymond has had a...a rough time.”

Lizzie swallows, feels the guilt grow and push at her insides, hurting her; she doesn't want it to stop. 

“Okay. Sure, no. I get it.” Lizzie nods, smiles at him. “Thank you for bringing him.”

She leaves them then, leaves them to exchange looks and watch her as she heads towards the elevator. She has fantasized of their reunion, at night, as she tossed and turned under covers. It helped her fall asleep. But seeing Red again, in the post office elevator, wasn't what she had imagined.

Everyone knows how Red has been. They are all worried.

Mr. Kaplan hadn't told her everything.

She has destroyed him.

But she kept Agnes safe, she reminds herself, must remind herself. Solomon and his employer; they thought she was dead, they stopped looking. And now, now they are gone. Dead. Because of Red, because of everyone at the task force, she and her baby are safe.

She kept Agnes safe.

And derailed Red in the process.

She jabs the elevator button and lets out a small breath as the door lifts. It rises too quickly for her liking, but she deserves it. Ten months is too long. She steps inside, doesn’t look up until the door closes behind her.

Red.

White shirt, no tie, smooth cheeks.

Red.

Red, his back against the left wall of the elevator; his eyes are closed, head slanted downwards. And she can’t tear her eyes away. 

Her right hand reaches out and presses the emergency stop button.

“Red.”

His hands are at his side, and they close into fists. He looks up slowly, dreamy, like he’s in a dream.

“Hey,” she breathes, overwhelmed. His green eyes are filled to the brim, glassy. And her heart is thumping and thumping, and she immediately regrets it; the casual greeting.

Sorry.

Sorry.

 _Sorry_ was meant to be her first word.

His mouth opens, closes, and opens; his lips are pale. And his skin is white, paper white, and she imagines it's cold.

Does he think he's seeing her ghost?

“Lizzie.”

The way he says it breaks her heart again and again, makes her legs weak. She wants to kneel in front of him, grip his legs, and never ever let him go again. Beg for forgiveness.

"Lizzie."

It's like he hasn’t said her name in so long. It's like it physically _hurts_ him to utter those two syllables.

She doesn't know they are his two favorite syllables.

“I’m  _so_ sorry,” she chokes, feels the lump in her throat rise again and again until she lurches her neck forward, thinking she’s going to be sick. But she doesn't; she cries out instead, and Red’s hand jolts out, rests on her left arm, holds her steady.

“Red. I’m so sorry, so sorry.”

His other hand is on on her now, sliding down her arm, and back up and the same movement over and over. But the material of her jacket is too much; it's stopping him from feeling her, alive. Lizzie is alive. His hand is shaky, but it finds her own warm palm, and he touches it with every finger, grips it, brings it up to his cheek.

Red's lips turn up; he's smiling and there's little crinkles by his eyes. Her hand warms his cool cheek.

Every thing slows down then.

She lets him feel her hand, lets him move his cheek across the skin of her palm, lets him smell her.

"I'm here," she whispers, flooded with emotion. "Red..."

He moves his lips away from her palm, holds it back against his cheek and looks at her. 

His voice is lighter now.

“Lizzie.”

***


End file.
